BrokenHeartsVille
by Sandalino Silvio Leif
Summary: COMPLETE. slash. someone's feeling very very down-and-out, and with good reason. Three chapters, it's a songfic. Please, take two minutes. hpdm, rated for depression, suicide and character death.
1. The Storm

A/N: a several chapter song fic. Slash so don't read if you don't like. I don't own harry potter or the songs. This one is called the storm by Garth Brooks. The annoying thing is that you have to pretend that harry is represented by the girl in the song. Thanks.

Broken-heartsville

Chapter one, the storm

He sat on the bed, staring at the wall. 

Not moving. 

Not breathing. 

Just staring. 

Perfectly normal thing to do. 

But it wasn't

The room was in shambles. 

Things scattered all over the place.

All of them familiar.

Most of them his.

But some, just some, belonged to another.

He stands, slowly, and walks to the window.

People are outside it.

Muggles.

Talking.

Walking.

Laughing.

Kissing.

Hugging.

Holding hands.

Happy.

As he had been

Before that night.

Before it all.

He wonders why he never suspected.

There was evidence enough. 

Oh yes.

There were signs.

But he never noticed them behind those beautiful gray eyes.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

She sits among the pieces of broken glass and photographs

  
Reluctantly releases the last of what was her past  


It struck without warning or did she just ignore the signs  


In those dark clouds forming behind those silver lines

:::::::::::::::::::::::

He reaches down to the dresser in front of him.

Picks something up.

A picture.

Of them.

A single tear falls.

The picture makes a dull iclinki as it hits the dresser surface.

Everyone said it wouldn't last. 

He never believed them.

What did they know?

How did they predict that night?

How could they have known?

It wasn't possible that they could have had foreknowledge of the ocean of pain he'd been drowning for the last month.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

  
The door it slammed like thunder and the tears they fell like rain

  
And the warnings from her family whirl like a hurricane  


She's drowning in emotions and she cannot reach the shore  


She's alive but can she survive the storm  


:::::::::::::::::::::::

He stepped out into the hall.

He cut his bare foot on a small shard of glass lying on the carpet.

The only remnant of the wine glasses.

That night was supposed to be amazing.

That was how he planned it.

Well, it was certainly memorable.

But not because of the magnificent wine.

Or the expensive wine glasses.

He glanced down at his foot.

No, defiantly not the glasses.

They had been flung at his head and, when they barely missed it, had shattered against the wall.

He didn't understand.

What had he done to cause this?

Even if he knew, it was too late.

The note said so.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

  
A broken jewel box dancer in pieces down the hall

  
She's finding out the answers don't change nothing at all  


It's time she stopped searching for who's to blame or what went wrong  


The only thing for certain is he's gone, she's got to move on  


::::::::::::::::::::::::

The note.

It was the only explanation.

And wasn't much of one.

iGood riddance.

Don't follow.

To hell with this.

I'm not comin' back.

And it's your fault.

That's right it's your fault.

So get on with it and leave me alone.i 

Nope, that didn't sound like he would be able to change anything.

He should probably get on with his life.

And forget.

But he couldn't.

The memories just returned all the stronger when he tried to ignore them.

The warnings.

The trying.

Succeeding.

Loving.

Laughing.

Living.

And then the shouts.

Things flying.

They'd both lost control of their magic.

And then it was over.

He had left, the other had, leaving him all alone.

With the pain.

He needed to get out of this house.

She would help.

She usually could fix anything.

The cleverest girl he'd ever met.

Yes his friends would help.

If they could.

And they had tried.

And it had helped.

Some.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

  
The door it slammed like thunder and the tears they fell like rain

And the warnings from her family whirl like a hurricane  


She's drowning in emotions and she cannot reach the shore  


She's alive but can she survive the storm  


::::::::::::::::::::::::

She tried to convince him to stay the night, after all, it was raining.

He knew the rain.

It was comforting.

And he might not live through the night.

Walking home was too difficult.

It left him with too much time.

For too many memories.

The sky was clear while he spoke to her but such things don't last.

She didn't know that.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like.

None of them could.

So he put on a brave face.

He didn't trouble them.

And he stepped out into the rain.

  
:::::::::::::::::::::::

Someday days just roll on by without a gray cloud in the sky  


She keeps telling herself, "I will make it on my own"  


And her friends they've all gone back to their lives  


Thinking she will be all right  


As she races through the night to make it home  


:::::::::::::::::::::::

Slowly but surely it's killing him.

Slowly but surely he's dying

He's tough.

He has to be.

With all he's taken in his life he is a veritable pillar of strength.

But like many constructs, all it takes is the right stone to be hit, the right spot to be touched.

He who strives to touch a star oft stumbles at a single straw. 

He knew what that stone, that straw, that spot, had been.

Who it had been.

The only one he could remember loving with every particle of his being.

Heart and soul.

Harry's love for Draco was killing him.

Drowning in his grief.

Dying slowly in a storm.

::::::::::::::::::::::

  
The door it slammed like thunder and the tears they fell like rain  


And the warnings from her family whirl like a hurricane  


She's drowning in emotions and she cannot reach the shore  


She's alive but can she survive the storm

::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: I think his eyes are gray, aren't they? My father is getting my notebook, with the completed next two chapters of the problem with inheritance, back from my cousins today. Sorry about delays on that.

This story will probably not be updated with any frequency but when ever I'm suffering from writer's block I'll write another chapter or so. Comments and reviews are greatly appreciated.


	2. Burning Bridges

**A/N**: hi! I was reading the fanfic "Holding on" by ... um.. I forgot. Anyway, It is a hp/dm and it's really good. I had just finished chapter twelve and I had a sudden inspiration for the next song to write to. It's called "Burning Bridges" and it's by Garth Brooks on his CD "Ropin' the Wind". Once again, Harry's the girl, Draco's the boy (that's the parts they play in the song).  
  
Here we go.

**Chapter Two,** Burning Bridges Draco woke to the blaring of the alarm.  
  
He sat up, looked around, and collapsed again.  
  
He had just remembered why it was that the bed was so cold.  
  
No one was there to share it.  
  
He curled up and rocked back and forth.  
  
It hurt.  
  
The memories came then, like they did every morning.  
  
All the time spent in bliss.  
  
Just the two of them.  
  
To hell with the rest of the world.  
  
That was the longest time he ever spent in one place.  
  
Five years with one person.  
  
Five long, happy years.  
  
And he couldn't even explain why he left.  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Yesterday she thanked me  
  
For oilin' that front door  
  
This morning when she wakes  
  
She won't be thankful anymore  
  
She'll never know how much I cared  
  
Just that I couldn't stay  
  
And I'll never know the reason  
  
Why I always run away  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
It had happened like this, many times before.  
  
He would find himself falling into a pattern and he'd run.  
  
Before this, his longest stay was almost a year.  
  
Well, all right, eight months.  
  
He had hoped that this would be the one.  
  
His place.  
  
But it was to dangerous.  
  
He was in too deep.  
  
Looking sadly out the window, he gathered his things.  
  
He wanted to see how far he could get by nightfall.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Burning bridges one by one  
  
What I'm doin' can't be undone  
  
And I'm always hoping someday  
  
I'm gonna stop this runnin' around  
  
But every time the chance comes up  
  
Another bridge goes down  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
He was startled awake by the screeching of brakes as the muggle bus pulled into his stop.  
  
Night again.  
  
He needed a room.  
  
The memories were back.  
  
That night was beautiful at first.  
  
The candle light.  
  
Violin music playing in the background.  
  
Chilled champagne.  
  
Beautiful glasses.  
  
Harry was stunning.  
  
Draco didn't understand.  
  
Maybe it was commitment he was afraid of.  
  
Maybe that was it.  
  
All he knew for sure, was that he had to get away.  
  
The other would get on with his life.  
  
Find someone more worthy.  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;  
  
Last night we talked of old times  
  
Families and home towns  
  
We wondered if we'd both agree  
  
On where we'd settle down  
  
And I told her that we'd cross that bridge  
  
Whenever it arrived  
  
Now through the flames I see her  
  
Standin' on the other side  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
He pays at the front desk.  
  
Cheap hotel.  
  
Single bed.  
  
Busted T.V.  
  
Mildew in the bathroom.  
  
He deserved it.  
  
What they had couldn't be repaired.  
  
He had tried before, with others, but the bridges of understanding that had been there were gone.  
  
Burnt to the ground.  
  
Maybe he could at least punish himself.  
  
He might feel a little better.  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Burning bridges one by one  
  
What I'm doin' can't be undone  
  
And I'm always hoping someday  
  
I'm gonna stop this runnin' around  
  
But every time the chance comes up  
  
Another bridge goes down  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
One day he'd have to stop, this was no way to live.  
  
He drifted into fitful dreams of curses, shattered glasses, notes and pain.  
  
The next morning he was on the road again.  
  
Where was he going?  
  
Far away, but where exactly?  
  
Ireland maybe?  
  
Too close.  
  
France then.  
  
Still too close.  
  
Germany?  
  
No.  
  
He needed to go the other direction.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Like ashes on the water  
  
I drift away in sorrow  
  
Knowing that the day  
  
My lesson's finally learned  
  
I'll be standing at a river  
  
Staring out across tomorrow  
  
And the bridge I need to get there  
  
Will be a bridge that I have burned  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
It was settled then.  
  
A plane ticket.  
  
Hawaii should be far enough.  
  
Australia had potential though, too.  
  
Maybe Antarctica.  
  
As far away as possible.  
  
He couldn't face him.  
  
Never again.  
  
Never.  
  
He went down stairs.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Burning bridges one by one  
  
What I'm doin' can't be undone  
  
And I'm always hoping someday  
  
I'm gonna stop this runnin' around  
  
But every time the chance comes up  
  
Another bridge goes down  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
How long since his last proper meal?  
  
A day at least.  
  
Surely twenty minutes in a café wouldn't hurt.  
  
Coffee and a muffin.  
  
Morning paper.  
  
Even in the Wales Wizarding Times, he read about his homeland.  
  
And his old boyfriend...  
  
Wait.  
  
It couldn't....  
  
That never happened before.  
  
No.  
  
The paper was lying.  
  
Harry...  
  
No.  
  
No!  
  
Nonononononononononononononononono!  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Another bridge goes down  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
A/N: I feel like finishing this story. Expect the next chapter soon. Guess what was in the paper? 


	3. Whiskey Lullaby

**A/N**: I strongly suggest you listen to this song. "Whiskey Lullaby" by Brad Paisley and Allison Kruass (I don't know how to spell her last name.) The "la la la" chorus is haunting.  
  
In this one, Harry is the guy in the song and Draco is the girl.  
  
This will be the final chapter.  
  
**Chapter Three, Whiskey Lullaby**  
  
Hmm.  
  
Interesting.  
  
Three months since that night.  
  
Seven weeks since Hearmione had forced him to take anti-depressants.  
  
They still weren't working.  
  
_She_ didn't get it, couldn't understand.  
  
No one had ever left _her_.  
  
_She_'d never had her heart broken.  
  
He had.  
  
His was.  
  
Beyond repair.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette  
  
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
He was no longer crying, consciously.  
  
He'd wake up, sometimes, at night, to feel tears running down his face.  
  
But he couldn't cry, otherwise.  
  
He'd taken to drinking.  
  
_They_ didn't know that.  
  
_She_ would panic if she knew.  
  
He just kept her out of his house.  
  
Yup.  
  
He was a regular alcoholic.  
  
It didn't work very well though.  
  
You know the muggle movie "The Legend of Bagger Vance"?  
  
There's an alcoholic in it, too.  
  
That alcoholic knows the truth.  
  
Whiskey's only good for two things, cleanin' car tires and killin' brain cells.  
  
When your drunk, the first cells to go are the quiet cells, so everything you say, you say real loud.  
  
But that's alright 'cause the stupid cells go next, so everythin' you say is real smart.  
  
But the memory cells, it takes a lot more than simple drunk to kill those buggers.  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time  
  
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind  
  
Until the night  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
He'd spent enough time in both worlds to have a good idea how to go about this.  
  
Most spells wouldn't work, it would be too hard to cast them on himself.  
  
He certainly wasn't about to ask one of _them_ to do it for him.  
  
All in all, the muggle way was best.  
  
A small amount of money later, he walked, package in hand, to his desk.  
  
Parchment.  
  
Quill.  
  
Last words.  
  
The bed looked strangely inviting.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger  
  
And finally drank away her memory  
  
Life is short but this time it was bigger  
  
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
Draco stared.  
  
No.  
  
It wasn't possible.  
  
He had known his boyfriend would be down, It had been five years after all.  
  
But he didn't expect this.  
  
This was wrong.  
  
It had to be a lie.  
  
But there it was.  
  
Picture of the outside of their old place as a stretcher covered in white was moved.  
  
Press wasn't allowed inside.  
  
Mudblood and Weasel were walking beside it.  
  
Tears pouring down their faces.  
  
Virginia Weasley had found him.  
  
Bottles strewn about the place.  
  
In his bed.  
  
She was afraid.  
  
She went to wake him, then saw the note.  
  
And the blood.  
  
I will never stop loving you.

I can't.  
  
That's what the note said  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
We found him with his face down in the pillow  
  
With a note that said I'll love her till I die  
  
And when we buried him beneath the willow  
  
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby  
  
_la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la_  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
It hit him hard.  
  
He stopped caring.  
  
Stopped searching.  
  
Stopped living.  
  
The only margin of solace he could find was at the bottom of a bottle  
  
Funny, that what he... _gods it hurt_... that's what Harry had been doing.  
  
Ironic, really.  
  
After all, _he_ had been the one that left.  
  
Presumably, he didn't need anyone else.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself  
  
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
He'd never needed anyone else before.  
  
'Course, he'd never stayed for five years before.  
  
Fitting, really.  
  
The one bridge it had been possible to fix, the one bridge he'd wanted most to repair, was the one bridge he talked himself into believing irreparable.  
  
Hmm.  
  
Whiskey is rather beautiful when the fire light is shining through the bottle.  
  
Nothing like wine though.  
  
Red wine.  
  
Blood red wine.  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time  
  
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind  
  
Until the night  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
That kind of wine really was beautiful.  
  
Once, he remembered, he'd brought a bottle of that...  
  
Maybe it was a reddish champagne...  
  
Oh well.  
  
It was very beautiful when poured all over his boyfriend and the sheets.  
  
He decided to recreate that.  
  
No boyfriend...  
  
A picture there instead, then.  
  
What of red wine?  
  
No wine.  
  
No pink champagne either.  
  
Nothing but whiskey.  
  
Food dye the whiskey?  
  
Nah.  
  
To cheap.  
  
To fake.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
That was it.  
  
That would work.  
  
Wonder if there are and kitchen knives in this place.  
  
It really was a beautiful color.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger  
  
And finally drank away his memory  
  
Life is short but this time it was bigger  
  
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
An article ran in all the Wizarding papers in Europe, the next day. It appeared that one Draco Malfoy had committed suicide. A member of staff at the hotel where Mr. Malfoy was staying, had gone up to Mr. Malfoy's room to see why he hadn't left yet. He'd only paid for the room until noon. The staff member knocked and, when he received no answer for over ten minutes, called the manager.  
  
The manager, a Mister Blaise Zabini, an old school friend of Mr. Malfoy's, had a master key that worked on all the rooms in the hotel. When he walked in, he saw Mr. Malfoy, face down on the white sheets of his bed, with his arms underneath him as if he were holding something.  
  
Mr. Zabini tapped him and, when there was no response, turned him over. This was all reported to us by the member of staff. When Mr. Zabini turned Mr. Malfoy over, he found the bed soaked in blood, apparently from large cuts in Mr. Malfoy's wrists. Mr. Zabini then discontinued rational thinking of any kind and was admitted to the temporary psychiatric ward at The local Hospital.  
  
Mr. Malfoy, along with the picture he was clinging to, will, on Sunday, be buried in England on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He will be laid next to the grave of Harry Potter, the man in Mr. Malfoy's photograph.  
  
We can only hope that the two of them have found peace at last.  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
We laid her next to him beneath the willow  
  
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby  
  
_la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
_  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;  
  
We can only hope.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
_la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la  
  
la la la la la la la_  
  
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
A/N: What did you think?


End file.
